Context Not Included
by Kay Seda
Summary: Assorted drabbles, focusing on various characters and ships. Ratings vary by drabble. This update: A librarian is stubborn and Glitch is persistant.
1. without hinges, key, nor lid

Glitch, in the annuals before. Rated G.

* * *

One, two, three, four... was that enough? Too few? Too many? Why was he doing this again?

"Is this right?" he asked the very patient hen whose nest he was pilfering. She made no sound, just peered back at him with her beady eyes glinting in the moonlight.

Wait, why was he talking to a chicken, and what was... oh! Eggs!

"Thank you!" he whispered and ducked back out of the coop, hoping the farmer would not hear the frantic pounding of his heart. Eggs meant food, and he was so hungry and...

...and he had no idea what to do with them.


	2. Priorities

Cain, Glitch, and a newel post. From the tinman100 prompt "We'll see.". Rated G.

* * *

"Well! That's not much of an answer, is it? It's a, a cop out. Which makes sense seeing as you're a cop, or were a cop. What are you doing with yourself again?"

"Sewing this button."

"I can see that, there's no need to be patronizing, Cain. But you can't very well keep on sewing that button forever, the thread will run out eventually, and then what? Then what will you come up with to delay giving me a straight answer?"

"There's a newel post on the north stair that's been wobbling, could do with a-"

"Fine, great, fix the newel post. _Then_ will you untie me?"

"Would that shut you up?"

"_We'll see_!"

"...I see what you did there."


	3. Everyone's an ocean drowning

DG and Jeb make the most of things. Written for tinman100's challenege "all the way." Rated G.

* * *

When they started out together they agreed that it was just a way to pass the time, young people doing what young people did. There was mutual attraction, of course, although Jeb did take offense the first time DG dared to call him "cute."

They made up for any cultural and linguistic shortcomings with long afternoons in her bed, or nights under constellations that were strange to her but beacons for him. She got him to laugh, he kept her from running, and together they fought all the way back from the edge of sanity their lives had driven them to.


	4. Wait

DG copes. Double drabble written for tinman100's challenege "don't freak out." Rated G.

* * *

Don't freak out at the storm, or the men with the guns, or the fall. Don't freak out at the tiny people with the feathers and the rhyming.

The man with the zipper? The man in the suit? The man who could read your mind? The robots you'd thought were parents? Don't freak out.

You are a princess, you were dead, you are alive, your sister killed you once and will do it again, but don't freak out.

Your friends are gone, you have been tortured, you have seen a man killed, but you can not freak out.

The dog is a man is your teacher (is a traitor), the Sorceress is not your sister but your sister is the Sorceress and don't freak out but everything is your fault.

Kidnapping is okay, balloons are okay, a visit with your long-dead ancestress is okay. Being entombed is not okay, freak out at that but not for too long.

Don't freak out at storming the tower, or nearly falling off the balcony. Don't freak out, don't let go, never let go again.

Later, when you are alone, when you are left to rest, when you are safe and quiet and free... then you can scream yourself hoarse.


	5. Open Mouth, Insert Entire Body

DG/Glitch and a serious faux pas. Written for tinman100's challenge "don't freak out". Rated G.

* * *

It was a perfect fantasy summer evening: a fragrant garden, golden fireflies, distant music, jewel doves cooing to one another in a dozing apple tree, the moons glimmering overhead.

They were sprawled on the grass, still dressed (for the time being) for the party they'd recently snuck away from. DG smiled up at Glitch, who had been studying her with Ambrosian intensity for several minutes now. "What?" she finally asked with a laugh.

"You look just like your mother in this light," he blurted happily.

Her smile vanished.

"Don't freak out," he added, but it was too late.

The resulting slap startled the doves.


	6. Before, After, Well After

Glimbrose/Cain, how things change. Triple drabble, written for tinman100's "fool" challenge. Rated G.

* * *

Glitch's spoon swirled in the bowl despondently. "Not even some carrots?"

"Plain broth. Doctor's orders," Cain sighed.

"Crackers?" When Cain shook his head Glitch dropped the spoon. "Well, this is hardly an ideal last meal then!"

Cain sat up. "Hey now! It's foolish going in thinking like that. This won't be your last meal."

"It is for me," Glitch said and tapped the metal strip in his head. "I just want a little actual _food_, is that too much to ask?"

"Is there anything else you want at all?"

Glitch considered him for a few moments, drew a breath, and shook his head. "No. Not now."

*

Cain was putting up burlap wallpaper in the cottage. It was more effective than elegant, and provided plenty of distraction while Ambrose sneaked up on him.

"Somewhere along the way I made a foolhardy mistake and fell in love with you," Ambrose began without preamble. "I am just here to make it abundantly clear that I understand the impropriety of that action and that you don't need to worry about me doing anything rash."

Cain nodded slowly. "And you came all the way out here to tell me this in person."

Ambrose blushed slightly. "...ah."

"It's okay. You're not the only one making foolhardy mistakes."

*

A long finger pointed to a collection of stars. "And that one's called-"

"I know the constellations, Ambrose."

There was a pause, and Ambrose let his arm flop down. "Forgive me for assuming you thought they were just a bunch of bright lights in the sky."

"Not having a bunch of fancy degrees doesn't make me a fool," Cain pointed out. His right hand came up to take Ambrose's. "It's good to know I can still surprise you. I'm afraid I won't hold your interest forever."

With a snicker Ambrose rolled over to peer down at him. "No worries there," he remarked, and pounced.


	7. Chicken Soup For The Soul

Cain and Glitch, rated G. Written for comment_fic's book title challenge, specifically "Chicken Soup For The Soul."

* * *

Glitch was thin, a bare slip of a thing. The queen had reacted with a sort of horror, deciding that her former adviser's affliction was a manifestation of her nation's ills.

So Glitch was fed, and fed, the choicest cuts of the finest the royal table could meagerly offer. All was good and hearty until the richness proved too much, and he was resigned to bed with a sour stomach and dour heart.

Cain knew better.

He coerced the cook to dice remnants, the bits and bobs of a hen, into a pot along with stock and veg. This simmered, turned broth into nourishment with the most subtle of seasonings added. Finally noodles were added, and a hunk of bread left on the tray Cain carried.

He found Glitch in misery, curled around one of the multitudes of pillows his bed was graced with.

"Hey headcase," Cain began affably and set the tray down. "Brought you food."

Glitch groaned and buried himself further under blankets. "Not interested."

Cain frowned with a twinge of disappointment. "It's just soup, I'm sure you can handle it."

"Soup," Glitch repeated and offered Cain a bleary glare. "Easy down, easy up, yeah?"

"If you look at it that way," Cain remarked. He sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the bowl. "Come on now, you need something."

Over feeble protest Glitch sat up, and forsake dignity in favor of Cain spoon-feeding him. Half way through the bowl he sighed and reached out, and Cain handed it over with gentle encouragement.

"I haven't had this since..." Glitch trailed off, that thoughtfully distant look infusing his features. "I don't know if I have before. It's like, it's like-"

"Country food," Cain supplied with a nod. His hands briefly covered Glitch's as he took the bowl back. "And there's more where that came from, if you want to come with me."

Glitch responded with a smile that no fillet, or custard, or hors dourves had managed to elicit. "I think I'd like that a lot, actually."


	8. Never Lose Affection

G. For the tinman100 "fool" challenge.

* * *

It will be another annual, maybe two, before the Square is decked with it customary spring banners. For now, it is enough that the gallows are gone and the sidewalk cafes reopened. Four well-known patrons are sitting around a table at one such cafe, taking shelter from a misty spring rain under a massive white umbrella.

A couple floors above, a band begins practicing an Otherside tune, brought over by a slipper a generation ago. It has a sweet melody and seems perfect for a day such as this.

"Oh!" Glitch says brightly and jumps to his feet. Apparnetly choosing at random he hauls Raw along with him. "They're playing our song!"

The Viewer protests as he is dragged away from his raspberry tart and out of the wide umbrella's shelter, but soon settles on humoring his friend and lets Glitch lead him in a waltz.

"Never heard this song before in my life," Cain remarks and plucks up the abandoned pastry. "Do you believe those fools?"

DG is not listening to him, though. She is listening to the song, and smiling, and is soon on her feet and tugging on Cain's hand.

"Come on!" she says through a laugh. "They're playing our song!"


	9. talk to me coy koi

G. Glitch thinks about it too much. Written for charloft's drabble prompt "omission."

* * *

"What's it like?" DG asked, curious and cautious. He grinned, tight lipped, and made a joke about feeling light-headed most of the time.

There is occasionally an ache in the void to remind him that it's there. Absence should not have a presence, which made him wonder how empty the space really was. He was not half blind, half deaf, half paralyzed, what had they done-

"I feel light-headed most of the time," he said again, and DG squeezed his hand. He nodded in gratitude, deciding that the big scary world outside was safer than the ache of what wasn't within.


	10. The Customer Is Always

G. Written as an exercise with the prompt of bossy!Glitch.

* * *

He was fairly certain that this used to be easier. In fact he _knew_ it had been, back when his uniform was perfectly tailored, and his hair fell in neat, crisp waves. Time was he's just have to puff out his chest and declare, in his most reasonable tone, that he was speaking "on Her Majesty's behalf." Bureaucrats had fled before him, he'd had the authority to snip through red tape and then replace it behind him as suited his whim.

That was merely political wrangling, of course, his lab and workshop had been his true domain. He'd conspired with the laws of nature to get elements to do his bidding, with assistance from his hand-chosen team of apprentices. Ambrose had divided his time between overseeing how the world worked and contriving ways to make it work better.

Now he was overseeing how headcases got looked down on, and contriving how to get his hands on a library book.

Glitch fussed with the tattered cuffs of his old coat, wishing he'd worn the spiffy new one instead. It gave him some level of authority, not that he'd thought he'd need it in this case. Then again it probably wouldn't matter, seeing as the librarian had taken one look at his zipper and dismissed the rest of him out of hand.

"I'm sorry...sir," the man said, with clear implication that he was not sorry at all. "The volume you've requested cannot be made available to you."

"No, no you don't understand," Glitch said. He did his best to keep his voice down, to keep calm, but it was hard fight. "This is _my_ book."

The librarian sighed. "All the books on this premisess belong to the Royal Archive, no one owns-"

"I'm not saying I own it," Glitch cut in. Gods, he could feel the tears prickling, threatening. "I mean I wrote it. That's my name."

"Is it?" the librarian asked, and made a show of picking up the slip of paper with the book's title and author scrawled on it. He raised his eyebrows and stared at Glitch. At Glitch's zipper. "Is it _really_?"

"Yes," Glitch hissed. "If you..if you could just tell me where it is, I can probably find it on my own."

"Now see here, you," the librarian muttered and set the paper down on the countertop. "Even if by some miracle you _could_ find it I will not be checking it out to you. For one it is exceedingly rare, and for another it goes against all regulations to lend scientifically sensitive books out to _felons_."

At this, something long buried in Glitch's synapses sparked, crackled, and finally snapped.

"No, see here _you_," he spat, more than a bit loudly. He drew himself to his full height, puffed out his chest, and looked right down formidable nose at the librarian. "My name is Lord Ambrose Langwe, former chief adviser to Ozma Francesca, and I know damn well the book is exceedingly rare because I made the order to destroy all copies of it. I also know that this library, due to its stubborn and insubordinate staff, did _not_ destroy their copy.

"In light of these facts, and in light of my desire to reclaim something of myself following my unimaginable sacrifice and suffering-" here he pointed straight at the zipper "-I would very much appreciate your cooperation in allowing me to peruse the volume. In fact, if you'd be good enough to accommodate me to my satisfaction, I may even consider allowing you to keep your job. Have I made myself clear?"

The librarian, who was now a great deal more pale and decidedly not looking at the zipper, swallowed hard and nodded. "Y-yes, sir."

"I'm sorry?" Glitch said and cocked his head. "What was that?"

"Yes, your lordship," the librarian said hastily, and added a slight bow to be safe.

"Great!" Glitch enthused with a smile and gave a single sharp nod. "Thank you."

At which point the synapse connection suddenly gave out, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed in a heap before the counter.

*

Glitch woke some time later, and was at once utterly confused. He was sprawled on a musty couch, in a dimly illuminated room which was lined with bookshelves.

"That was a doozy," he muttered and shifted slightly, which brought his attention to the weight on his chest. With a frown he picked up the object, not entirely surprised to discover that it was a book.

It was _Modern Metallurgy Of The Outer Zone_ by Ambrose Langwe, and in the seventh chapter was a brief outline and discussion of the theoretical use of moritanium in the construction of a Sun Seeder.

He sat up and flipped through the pages, frowning intently. "Huh," he remarked, then shrugged and closed the book. "Wonder what I was doing with this."


End file.
